below a line.

'Me! I! I don't even know what language it is in!'

'Don't you see it is Dante?' she replied, almost petulantly; she
did so want help.

'Italian, then?' said I, dubiously; for I was not quite sure.

'Yes. And I do so want to make it out. Father can help me a
little, for he knows Latin; but then he has so little time.'

'You have not much, I should think, if you have often to try and
do two things at once, as you are doing now.

'Oh! that's nothing! Father bought a heap of old books cheap. And
I knew something about Dante before; and I have always liked
Virgil so much. Paring apples is nothing, if I could only make
out this old Italian. I wish you knew it.'

'I wish I did,' said I, moved by her impetuosity of tone. 'If,
now, only Mr Holdsworth were here; he can speak Italian like
anything, I believe.'

'Who is Mr Holdsworth?' said Phillis, looking up.

'Oh, he's our head engineer. He's a regular first-rate fellow! He
can do anything;' my hero-worship and my pride in my chief all
coming into play. Besides, if I was not clever and book-learned
myself, it was something to belong to some one who was.